Worlds Apart
by JuliTina
Summary: "...I swear you were hit in the head as a child or something." Bardock said, looking at his son. Slash, AU, Goten/Trunks and MiraiTrunks/Gohan
1. Chapter 1

AN: God help me, I just had an urge to write this out of nowhere. I'm an avid slasher, but there's something about Bulma and Chichi that I adore, so perhaps only a slight inkling of Vegeta/Goku will be mentioned. Main pairings shall be Trunks/Goten and Mirai Trunks/Gohan. I know this takes place in the saiyan world, so I have tried to make it grittier and more violent, but I adore the characters as they are, so expect to see nicer than expected versions of such characters. As always, CC is welcome.

Warnings: AU, Slash and Mature themes.

…

_Prologue_

There was a beeping sound at his side, and Vegeta scowled at the transmitter, recognising the call. He swallowed, and answered hesitantly, schooling his expression into one of placid obedience. It just was not his day today.

"Lord Frieza." He intoned, trying to keep the snarl from his voice. "What do we owe the pleasure?"

Frieza raised an eyebrow, and ignored the jibe as he moved onto business, in no mood to deal with the young king's contrary moods today.

"I hear from Dodora you've had trouble keeping a few of your soldiers in line these days."

Vegeta scowled. He had heard about this, and he was itching to blow off some steam at the _idiot_ that had drawn Frieza's attention to Vegeta-sei. The tyrant was currently moving towards the western quadrant, far away from their planet, and he did not need this renewed attention, not when he was re-establishing his control again. The last time this had happened his father had paid a dear price, and as long as he had breath he vowed he would not let it happen again. He would play at obedience, but not before he found Dodora and dismembered him, piece by piece.

"News travels fast, my lord." His was smooth and silky, arrogance tempered down by a need to remain discreet. "The matter is currently being dealt with."

There was a pause, and Frieza recognised the dark undercurrent in his tone, and took it for the violence that it promised. He smiled, apparently satisfied.

"My dear Vegeta, of course it is. I'm sorry I interrupted." The transmission ended abruptly, and Vegeta turned his gaze onto the saiyan before him, knelt at his feet and surrounded by guards.

"So…Kakarot is it?" He stepped forwards, recognising his low class by his features, and the helpless way he held himself, surrounded by elites. "Just what makes you think you can ignore imperial orders hm?" With every step towards him, his power level spiked, and until he was close enough to touch him, he kicked him, relishing the scream of pain that followed. The guards around him just laughed, cruelly, and tightened their grips, wrenching his arms behind his back, holding him prostrate on the floor. "Answer me."

"I won't eradicate entire planets for anyone. Not for you and _especially_ not for Frieza." Kakarot spat on the floor, voice harsh with pain, and a strand of saliva and blood dropped onto Vegeta's boot, staining the white. Almost oblivious to the pain, he continued, face screwed up into a grimace. "Saiyans don't serve, and they don't obey the words of Frieza." The disdain in his voice was dripping, and so did the blood that trickled down his face, red and bright and viscous.

Vegeta stared at him, and he felt his temper rise. This low class piece of trash was staring at him without fear, spouting nonsense that was _treason_, unafraid and naïve to the point of stupidity.

"Do you have a deathwish?" He snarled. "Frieza is not kind to those who rebel against his rule."

"I am not afraid of Frieza." Kakarot said simply. And then he smiled, mockingly. "But you are."

That was it. He felt the energy rise within him, and he held his palm out, ready to kill this piece of trash before him until a presence made itself known to him, the dark hooded figure appearing next to his side, placing a firm hand on his arm. Vegeta felt himself bristle, but the figure shook his head slowly.

"This is the one."

Vegeta felt himself become speechless, and slowly he reigned in his anger, controlling his temper before it threatened to overflow. His guards looked nervous, ready to apprehend the strange figure, until he waved them off, sitting back wearily on his throne with a sigh.

There was silence in the throne room, with only Kakarot's pained breathing and the beep of a scouter to show that Vegeta was powering down.

"I have no need for a warrior who won't fight. I will spare you and your worthless sons on the account of who your wife is, but you are now exiled from the inner capital and the saiyan army. You have until sunset to get out of the city before my guards come looking for you."

One of his guards, Nappa looked both shocked and disgusted, and approached him hesitantly.

"Sire, are you sure?"

"Let him go." His tone was sharp and hard, and Nappa knew not to argue at _that_ tone of voice. Things tended to get ugly quick and fast from there. Kakarot stood up slowly, and with some cheek, dusted himself off before giving the King and the hooded figure one last, if not slightly confused glance before holding two fingers to his forehead. And then he disappeared.

…

"Thankyou for listening."

Vegeta glanced at the hooded figure from the corner of his eyes.

"Don't thank me. He would have been a complete waste of my time and energy."

The hooded figure just laughed, and Vegeta narrowed his eyes as the figure took his hood down, revealing light blue eyes and purple hair that was cropped around his ears. He was broad in the shoulders and narrow in the waist, with a defined arch to his nose that was reminiscent of the royal line.

"I shall see you in a few more years, father."

Vegeta did not answer; he only inclined his head, and watched as his son disappeared back to the future, feeling the sense of foreboding that threatened to engulf him and his planet. Frowning, he set aside his thoughts and with a turn of his cape, he proceeded towards the gravity room. He needed to train.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

AN: And here is the rest of it. I'm writing this at a faster pace than my usual stories, with half of chapter three already planned out and with a distinct overarching plot this time. Here's to hoping this latest craze lasts.

...

_10 years later_

Two hundred leagues away from the capital, there laid a small house sheltered by a mountainside cliff and a deep river flowed past it, cold and sparkling and red from the night sky. The area was peaceful, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city centre, and nowhere near enough to be affected by stray energy blasts from airborne battles. It was however situated near a small city, composed of nearly all low-class saiyans, but it was still remote enough to provide some measure of peace on a planet that lived for warfare and battles.

Bardock eyed the little establishment with disdain, and flew lower so that he could check the energy signatures within the house with his scouter. The figures that came back were pitifully low, and distantly he sighed, disappointed. He had thought that with Chichi as an elite (albeit one of the weakest females) his grandsons would have had a chance of being classed slightly higher than average, but these figures were disappointing. Still, his family name had the record of having spawned the only saiyan to have disobeyed King Vegeta and lived, _and _the only saiyan ever who had ever been fired from the military. Thinking back on it, Bardock smirked. Notoriety was something to be proud of, despite the obviously unfortunate circumstances in which it had arisen. He could now hear Chichi's sharp voice, and he knocked at the door, interrupting her tirade.

"Grandpa!" Goten smiled brightly at him after answering the door, and Bardock couldn't even find it in him to criticise him for being too effusive, not when he greeted him like that. His grandson had grown up into a fine man, reminiscent of his younger days and Kakarot's; it was just a shame about the power level.

"Goten, how's it going?"

"Help us." Goten whispered, grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he led him into the dining room, where Chichi was at the stove, roasting something that smelled delicious whilst simultaneously lecturing both Goku and Gohan, whom both looked miserable.

"-There's no use in fighting when you'll never amount to anything, just look what where your father ended up. There's too many fighters on this planet as it is, and – oh hello Bardock, sit down at the table, dinner's nearly ready – you're going to qualify and become a scholar and that's that."

Goku looked dismayed, and he tapped nervously at the table.

"But Chichi, there's still space down at the fighting rings for Gohan, he doesn't need to become a scholar..."

There was a snap, and everyone paled as the spoon Chichi had been stirring with suddenly snapped in half. Ki bolts jumped out from her fists, and she grabbed Bardock's son by the collar, energy crackling at her fingertips.

"I'll tolerate you and Goten going to those places because that's all you two are capable of. But Gohan is _going_ places."

Goku opened his mouth, and Chichi just smiled sweetly, fingertips still bright and crackling.

"Give me a reason dear."

Goku gulped, the sound loud in a silent room save for the bubbling stove and everyone looked back down at the table hurriedly.

"I thought so." She smiled, and the tension eased. "Goten, come help set up for dinner."

...

The food was delicious as usual, and Bardock looked at the empty plates before him and patted his stomach with a satisfied sigh.

"You've outdone yourself again, Chichi."

The female saiyan just smiled, clearing up the dishes whilst they piled up, with Goten and Gohan now onto dessert.

"Well, with Goku and the boys, one needs to be prepared."

There was another pause, and Chichi and Goku exchanged a nervous glance, as Bardock's expression hardened slightly.

"Your _name_ is Kakarot." He said, pursing his lips. "I don't see why you refuse to accept your saiyan heritage."

"I picked it up on this planet called Earth. I grew rather fond of it." Goku said, finally.

"…I swear you were hit in the head as a child or something."

His son just grinned, scratching the back of his head and laughed, and Bardock sighed inwardly. He wasn't in the habit of choosing his battles wisely, but this one he knew he wouldn't ever win.

…

There was a dim explosion in the background, and Vegeta's eyebrow twitched. The sound of screaming then followed, and with a sigh, he powered up and went looking for his son.

"Control your son woman." He snapped, with irritation and a slight desperation that counteracted the threatening tone of his voice.

But the blue haired saiyan just stared back at him, and raised an eyebrow.

"_My_ son is incapable of listening to me because he takes after one of the most pig headed people I know. You deal with it." And with a snap of her tail, she resumed her tinkering with the scouter. Bulma was probably the only saiyan on the entire planet that dared to treat him in this manner, and whereas he usually found it challenging and exciting, now he only felt anger. The contraption was now dangling by only a few wires, and the King scowled at the useless meddling, not knowing what the hell had possessed him to sleep with the woman in the first place. Her power levels were low for elite (as it usually was with the women, he thought with a derisive snort) but it had been her unusual colouring, intelligence and absolute refusal to back down that had interested him in the first place.

But now, staring at the stubborn line to her jaw and her irritated glare, he was beginning to regret it. In hindsight, he started to realise he had just married a female version of himself.

He stalked towards the prince's chambers, retracing old steps to his old room, energy crackling and he stepped over the debris and charred remains of something to see Trunks sprawled out over his bed, idly playing with an energy ball, bouncing it up and down. Seeing his father, he stiffened, but did not rise, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge him and yet still slightly fearful.

"Don't make me beat you, boy." Vegeta snarled.

It elicited another twitch, but saiyans did not fear pain, and Vegeta was grimly satisfied to see his son resist the temptation to run, like any other low class would. He stopped to look at the charred mess on the ground, prodding the smoking lumps with the toe of his boot, grimacing at the mess.

"What the hell did this one do that was so offensive to warrant burning as a method of execution?"

"He irritated me."

Vegeta almost snorted, remembering a similar conversation with his own father, and his eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what to do next. Parenting had not come easy to him, but he had his own father as a rough guide.

He shot a ki bolt at his son.

"Get up and meet me in the gravity room. We need to improve on your aim."

…

They snuck out of the house quietly, keeping their energies low, and Goku grinned as his kids followed him, snickering to themselves. Sensing no disturbance in his wife's ki, they grabbed onto him as he teleported them out of the danger zone, and into their training arena. Sensing and suppressing their energy had been necessary to avoid their mother's wrath, but instant transmission had been one of the unexpected quirks of Goku's travels off planet. He had an unfortunate habit of making friends with the inhabitants of the planets he had been sent to erase, and after a few failed and botched missions, he had been cut from duty all together. In fact, his entire family had been cast to the wilderness, left to fend for themselves, and King Vegeta hadn't even bothered to sentence him since his power level was so low.

It had been an uncharacteristic show of mercy that had not gone unnoticed, and Goku remembered that day and that strange hooded figure very clearly. He owed that figure a lot, but in the end it had worked out quite well. They weren't built for city life, and he was much happier out in the wilderness, without the stresses of a day job nor the politics and strife that came from being in the military.

Stretching, he guessed it was a good thing things had happened the way they had, only he missed having strong opponents to fight against, the constant challenge of meeting new competitors had all but disappeared since he had been confined to Planet Vegeta. And that they were running out of money, and Chichi never let him forget it. They survived well enough in their isolated part of wilderness, but there were bills to pay for electricity and hot water, and they had Goten's schooling to think about. He tried to make as much as he could from the ring fights downtown, but it hardly paid well when he needed to throw fights regularly to avoid being noticed.

Wrapping the cloth around his fists, he tensed his muscles, closing his hands around the muslin wrap. His sons watched him nervously, energies spiked, and Goku had to look at them warningly until they got themselves under control.

"I don't see why you have to hide your power all the time." Goten pouted, grabbing onto his shoulders. "In fact, I don't see why you have to pretend to lose all the time either."

He ruffled his son's hair, smiling fondly, and then proceeded to whack him up the head, albeit softly. He was always surprised at how fast they had grown, and part of him was proud of his wayward sons. He missed having new opponents to fight against, but his sons all but made up for it with their strength.

"I got into a bit of trouble with the law when you two were younger. I don't really want the King to know where we are just in case he decides to change his mind."

Gohan nodded and patted his brother on the shoulder.

"Come on little bro, show me what you've got."

And with feral grins, the three of them sank into identical crouches, ready to begin sparring.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Written scrappily this time, but here you go. The slash is a long way from happening though.

Vol is also what I'm calling a type of alcoholic drink in the saiyan world.

...

The fighting rings downtown were crowded, and Goten scowled as another saiyan bumped into him. He elbowed his way to the side, and watched as the saiyans prepared to fight. Trash talk and banter could be heard being tossed back and forth the opponents, and his brother could be seen limbering up, stretching his calf muscles in preparation. They were all low class saiyans here, with not much else to do but to gamble and drink and to fight and it suited them all just fine. Their mother hated the place, but it provided them with the money they needed, and nothing was better than being paid to do something they all loved.

The occasional saiyan recognised his dad sometimes; everyone had heard of the saiyan who had refused to fight in the outerworlds. Initially they had been greeted with hostility, and contempt, but they had quickly made a name for themselves in the rings as decent fighters. Bardock's name lent them a lot of slack, since most of the fighting rings were composed of ex military members and mercenaries, but there was still the odd one that questioned their place.

Like the moron that was currently due to fight Gohan now.

His name was Kiya, and he was built like an ox, muscles bulging and he had already been at the vol, taking back shots with his friends. Trash talk was customary, especially between opponents, but listening to the idiot, Goten was starting to bristle.

"Calm down son." Goku placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. "Gohan has this one in the bag."

Tora, a friend of their granddad's sat next to him, a patted him on the back.

"Don't worry, Kiya is just a loud mouthed idiot. He's just been demoted from second class so he feels like he has something to prove."

"Yeah, but I don't like the way he's trash talking my brother. He could beat him into the ground if he chose."

"Well, I don't know about that." Tora grinned. "He still has enough power to have become a second class, but Gohan should win if he's on his game tonight."

"Oh don't worry, he's always on his game." Goten mumbled, quietly so that no one could hear.

The lights became brighter and Gohan and Kiya stepped into the ring, and cheers and calls could be heard. The older saiyan was sneering at him and flexing his muscles, and Gohan looked calm as usual. His energy was still low, but he sank into the classic Son stance, calmly assessing his opponent.

"You're that son of that low class trash Kakarot aren't you?"

Gohan's eyes narrowed.

"And what if I am?"

"I surprised that they even let you fight. With a weak power level like yours, no wonder your dad gave up fighting. Even your pathetic mother – content at sitting home and playing housewife to a family of trash?"

With a flash, Gohan ran up the larger saiyan and decked him, punching him once in the face. The force knocked him off his feet and into the side of the ring, and there was a shocked silence as the man groaned, clutching his face piteously.

Goku groaned, slapping his face with his hand, but Goten knew his father too well and despite it, he was smiling proudly. No one insulted Chichi in front of them. No one.

"I'll get you for that you stinking piece of trash." Kiya growled, powering up, and if ki blasts had not been prohibited, Goten was sure that Kiya would have been sending them out. But Gohan just smirked, and crooked his fingers. His brother hardly ever got like that, but sometimes when faced against particularly obnoxious opponents, Gohan's darker side would appear and love of fighting could be clearly seen. It didn't take long at all, Kiya didn't have a chance against Gohan's superior speed or strength, and Goten was glad that they didn't have to lose any matches on purpose today.

Besides, his older brother was starting his new job next week, and it was his last chance to blow off some steam before he settled into the routine of things. Distantly, he could hear his dad and Tora talking about the anti-Frieza faction that had begun to develop in the saiyan army, but he tuned them out quite easily. He wasn't interested in politics, only his fighting technique. And with his tail lashing agitatedly behind him, he watched as the fighters took their places again.

…

Getting groceries was one of her favourite activities, and it calmed her to walk through the town. She was still angry at her husband for taking out her sons to the fighting rings, but inwardly, she knew that it was a lost cause. Although she had no desire to fight herself anymore, she remembered the feeling, and understood the sentiment, even though he often defied her wishes to do so. The store owners knew her well enough, and she thanked them as she walked back home, humming to herself.

Her father had nearly flipped out when she had announced her decision to marry Goku, and her friends at the time had all tried to convince her to change her mind. She had been sent to Earth as an elite to pick up the missing saiyan, and she had fallen for the man quick and hard. Elites and low class saiyans were simply not compatible with each other and yet she refused to listen. She got what she wanted and her father had reluctantly agreed, not that she would have had it any other way. Goku's power level now was even higher than it had been before, through the countless battles he had been through on Earth, and now even more so the constant challengers that approached him in the rings. Although she didn't approve of them fighting there, she did admit that it did them good to be out for a while, active and engaged with their saiyan heritage.

They had fought on Earth, as equals, and for the very first time, she found herself truly challenged by someone. Granted, he was an idiot at times, but no one else had such a blatant disregard of the rigid class systems that Planet Vegeta enforced, and she had found it refreshing.

Besides, she thought with a little smirk, the sex was fantastic. Grinning, she was beginning to prepare herself to take off for flight, until a group of saiyans noticed her, and walked directly towards her, unpleasant grins taking place.

"Chichi. It's been a long time."

"Get out of my way Jiro." Her tone was harsh. Clutching at her grocery bags, she felt a vein start to throb in her temple.

"What if I say no?" He just moved closer, invading her personal space. "Have you left that no good low class yet? Why don't you come move in with a _real_ man."

This idiot was starting to annoy her.

"Seriously Jiro, I know there aren't many female elites around anymore, but what makes you think I would mistake you as anything but the inbred slug that you are?" Her snort of laughter was derisive, and as he charged at her she kicked him squarely in the jaw. Twirling around, she dispatched two of his goons with solid kicks, and without dropping her groceries; she knelt down on one leg, her knee placed firmly on his throat. She watched him choke impassively, letting her weight do all the work, and then smiled sweetly at him.

"Talk to me like that again, and I will kill you."

And humming, she swept her dark eyes across the rest of his friends, watching them cringe, and then took off into the sky, in the direction of home.

…

Vegeta paced agitatedly, expression scrunched into a scowl. His son had blown up another diplomat, which was in itself very problematic, but civil unrest was stirring up again, and he did not need it at this very moment. It was saiyan nature to fight, and there were always tensions between the class systems, but it usually only took a few well targeted patrols and executions to eliminate the problem. He enjoyed a good bloodbath as much as any other saiyan, but the problem this time he was a sympathiser to their cause. Anti-Frieza campaigns had been springing up everywhere amongst the lower classes, headed most likely by the low-level soldiers that had the most contact with Frieza's military, and although it pained him to admit it, he was slightly impressed that for once the third classes actually had it right for a change.

It was lucky that Frieza was currently conquering other worlds, because if Vegeta didn't do something to stop it soon, he was going to be in trouble for seeming too lenient. But truth be told, he didn't want to execute soldiers that could prove valuable in his eventual rebellion (because yes, there was going to be one) but it was too soon to act, and without a coherent strategy he was going to fail.

"Busy thinking are you?" His wife watched him dispassionately, though there was a slight curl to her lips that meant she was amused, and he glared at her in irritation. He was used to her mocking, but he kept her around for a reason; she was an invaluable strategist and he needed her, despite not wanting to admit it.

"Be serious woman." He snapped. "I need you to help me think of a plan to deal with the anti-Frieza faction amongst the lower classes."

Her gaze was sharp, and he knew that the subtleties of his request would not be lost on her.

"Let me guess. You need something that will appear to be completely innocent on the surface and therefore escape his icy-ness' attention, but will actually allow you to mobilise."

He nodded, brows furrowed.

"The situation is getting out of control. The lower classes are getting more belligerent everyday, and sooner or later Frieza is going to notice."

"Host a tournament. Distract them." She said slowly, after some thought. "Make it open to every saiyan on the planet, and make the prize a chance to advance classes and allow them to have an audience with you, the king."

"That's preposterous," Vegeta snapped, "saiyans do not change classes so easily, they are _born_ into it."

"Just think about it." Bulma eyed him coolly. Vegeta paused. "You need to get rid of some of the pent up tension between the classes right? What better way than to let them fight it out themselves. Even if the elites completely dominate, you will still be able to see which of the lower classes have potential, and you'll be able to pick out assets and liabilities quite quickly. The offer of an audience with you implies you'll grant them a request but does not actually promise anything, but it will attract those such as the leaders of the rebel force."

"…And it will just look like bloodthirsty entertainment to Frieza and his lackeys." Vegeta trailed off, and for once, he was stunned. This was pure genius. Almost as good as the time his idiot son from the future had come back to tell them he was going to save the planet and that his mother had built a _time machine _for him to do so.

"You know, you and Trunks could even participate." Bulma said with a sly smile to her face. "That way, there would be no way you would ever be obliged to offer the winners anything, since they won't win."

"I'm going to talk to Nappa." He said, after another stunned pause. He looked at her admiringly, and then said grudgingly, "You've outdone yourself this time."

"I know." She preened, and then continued. "Oh, make it open to criminals and lift the ban on exilees for a while. These so called "leaders" probably have a bone to pick with you and Frieza, so it makes sense for you to keep your options open."

"Okay, consider it done." He swept away, his cloak fluttering behind him, and Bulma watched him walk away, letting her expression become slightly less harsh and more fond. Although her husband had apparently forgotten Kakarot, she definitely hadn't. Her future son had been very clear with his instructions, and damned if she was going to let her husband's stupid pride get in the way of saving her home planet, regardless of the consequences.

Vegeta was going to be in for a bad shock.

tbc


End file.
